Every Rose Has A Thorn
by LizistheShiz
Summary: Violet Ewell and Tom Robinson are secretly in love and think, if they keep it hidden from the outside world, everything will be fine. But when Violet's father catches them, Tom runs and is convicted of raping her. Why won't Violet come clean? TomxOC
1. A Secret Kiss

**November sixteenth, 1933**

I was really beginning to enjoy these little visits with Violet. Every few days as I passed by her family's ramshackle of a house, on my way to Mr. Link Deas's farm, she'd be sitting on the front porch, a book in her lap. She'd look up and give me one of those smiles that were so beautiful it would almost break your heart. She'd kindly invite me inside the fence, asking for my help with something just so we could talk without it looking suspicious to the other children- her father wasn't a worry because he was never around. After I'd finished the job she would always offer a nickel; I would politely decline, bid her farewell, and then finish up the walk to pick cotton or harvest nuts.

It was November sixteenth, a rather cool day, but I had to work nonetheless, and was passing by The Ewell's, hoping with every fiber of my being that Violet would be sitting on the worn rocking chair with her recent literary obsession: Romeo and Juliet. And there she was, beautiful and reading as per usual.

Her head was bent over her book, golden waves of hair falling around her face like a halo. I could imagine her face, contorted in concentration, her green eyes filled with passion and the occasional tear as she absorbed the sad tale of forbidden romance full of love and heartbreak.

I wondered if she noticed the irony between Romeo and Juliet and her and I, or if she didn't feel the same way at all. I couldn't possibly tell her that I loved her because it just wasn't ethical.

Her skin was white as snow and mine was dark as midnight.

Violet looked up from her reading suddenly and gave me her special smile. She shut her book and waved daintily because, after all, she was a lady- raised proper by her momma before she died.

I opened my mouth to say a greeting and she gave me the signal to hush. I shut my mouth, curious because this had never occurred before.

"God damn, Violet! Feed your sister! I don't have the time fo' all this nonsense!" Mr. Ewell yelled, obviously pissed. Then something broke, causing Violet to flinch, and the back door slammed shut.

"Yes sir," she called, a light blush creeping up on her cheeks. She was never one to blush all that much but I thought it was right darn cute.

After a few more moments, she finally turned to me, a sorrowful look on her face, and motioned me in. Her voice sounded weak as she invited me in and told me the door was off its hinges.

I opened the ratty fence, wondering what had her father so angry. It was none of my business so I wouldn't ask but I was pretty sure she'd tell me soon enough.

"Good mornin', Miss Violet," I said in greeting as I carefully walked up the steps that had a tendency to give out.

Her heartbreakingly beautiful smile appeared again. "Morning, Tom," she said and then walked over to the front door. "Well, yesterday it just... fell off," she said in explanation as she pushed the door out of the doorway.

I analyzed it and nodded. "Definitely off its hinges," I said in agreement. "Do ya have a screwdriver?" I inquired, knowing it was fixable.

She nodded. "So you can fix it?" she inquired hopefully, her green eyes shining.

"Believe I can, ma'am." I nodded, grinning back at her.

She smiled shyly then slipped in through the tiny space she made. "Thanks. I'll just get the screwdriver then I've got to feed Annabel," she informed me, her voice fading as she walked farther down the hallway.

I examined the door closer and realized that the nails that kept the door on its hinges weren't in place at all. I smirked, wondering if Violet had done this purposefully- and, if she had, was that to get me to stay or for some other reason. If it was the latter, what possible reason could there be.

"Here ya go," Violet said, appearing beside me again with the requested tool in her hand. She bit onto her lip as I took it from her, our hands brushing lightly and the familiar spark ignited, and she moved just slightly closer.

With her close, I got a better look at her face. It was the usual creamy white but a yellow bruise disrupted her cheek.

I was immediately worried. This wasn't the first time she had bruises on her face or arms but she would never tell me where they come from.

"Thanks again, Tom," she murmured then quickly turned and made her way back inside, alerted by a distressed cry.

I heard Violet shushing her baby sister Annabel as I got to work, having found the screws on the porch. I half listened to Violet, moving around the kitchen as she made something for Annabel to eat.

"You hungry, Annie?" Violet would coo compassionately. I knew she loved her younger siblings as if they were her own.

She got no reply because I'd learned, from listening to Annabel's interactions, that she hated the cooing voice but dealt with it.

"Why's that nigger here?" Annabel asked, childish curiosity tainted by adult's hurtful language.

"Hush now, Annabel Lilly Ewell," Violet commanded, meaning business. "He's helpin' me and his name's Tom. You will be respectful and never, _ever _say nigger again in this house. If you must, say Negro- and even that is hurtful," she ranted, always blowing up whenever someone called us by anything other than our own names.

I couldn't help the goofy smile that spread across my face as I listened to her defending me. I knew I loved her.

"But Daddy always says it! It ain't fair that we can't! And I ain't gonna call a damn nigger by his name," Annabel whined, throwing a small tantrum.

"Don't you dare go cussin', Annabel!" Violet's authoritative tone was showing. "Paw is a horrible influence on you poor kids and just because he goes around using foul language doesn't mean you get to." She huffed, gasping for a quick breath. "Goodness, you're only six, Annabel. Please don't go growin' up before your time," she pleaded, sounding very lost and scared.

Her tone alerted me and my protective instincts kicked up a notch. I focused on screwing in the nail so I wouldn't run in there and bring her into my arms.

"Now, eat," I barely heard Violet command then her footsteps echoed down the hallway. She paused somewhere close to where I was and I heard her taking in a few, rasping breaths.

Curious and worried, I leaned over to peek inside. "Somthin' the matter, Miss Violet?" I asked.

She was leaning against the wall, her head hanging down but snapped into a standing position when she heard me and flattened out her already smooth dress. "Everything's fine," she murmured and stepped outside.

She looked at me closely as I went back to work. "You heard her, didn't you?" she inquired knowingly and continued on before I could answer. "I'm sorry 'bout that, Tom. She's only six 'nd she shouldn't even know those words- but age doesn't matter 'nd I know they're hurtful 'nd- Gosh, I'm sorry," she rambled on, managing to daintily plop down onto the rocking chair and hold her head in her hands.

I smiled, looking at her from the corner of my eye. "It's really fine, ma'am," I assured her. "But thank you for thinkin' that way 'bout me." I crouched down so I could get to the bottom hinge.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her slide down onto the porch beside me. She curled her legs beneath her and played nervously with her dress so it spread out over her lap and covered her knees.

"Your gonna get your pretty dress dirty," I informed her, searching her slightly sorrowful face.

She shrugged. "I don't really care," she whispered and crawled a tiny bit closer to me.

We lapsed into silence. I was having a little bit of trouble concentrating with her so close. She smelled divine and the electricity filled the room between us, making it feel like we were connected.

Violet looked around us suddenly and quickly leaned in to peck my cheek. She pulled back and her cheeks were pink. "Sorry..." she whispered, not sounding all that sorry.

I smiled, feeling very warm where her lips brushed my skin. "No need for pologizin'," I whispered then stood up because I was finished. I tested out the door and it was working perfectly.

She looked crestfallen but quickly thanked me. "Must you leave now?" she asked as I turned to walk away.

I looked back at her and nodded solemnly. I lifted my hat from my head and nodded farewell. "I'll be walkin' by tomorrow," I offered.

She nodded and gave me another one of her heartbreaking smiles. "Thank you again, Tom," she said reverently taking a small step forward.

I replaced my hat. "The pleasure was all mine," I replied with the same reverence.

She gently grabbed my hand and flattened her own out in it, placing something on my palm. She curled my fingers around it, patted it, and disappeared inside the house.

I opened my hand and saw the nickel. I could imagine her saying, in her authoritative voice, _"Just keep it, Tom," _so I did.


	2. True Forbidden Fruit

**November nineteenth, 1933**

It was November nineteenth and I hadn't seen Violet out on her front porch in three days. That would happen sometimes but I never knew what kept her indoors or elsewhere. I just guessed she was helping her family work or entertaining the kids.

I was really hoping she'd be out there because today was special. I had wanted to be the first to wish her happy birthday but that wasn't possible without looking suspicious.

And there she was, Romeo and Juliet in her lap, but she wasn't looking at it. She was watching a beautiful monarch flying around her, staying completely still other than her eyes following the butterfly. It eventually landed atop her beautiful head and rested there.

I smiled as I met her eyes and she smiled back, mouthing for me to come on in. I did, watching as she slowly and carefully put her hand atop her head, in front of the butterfly. I watched in wonderment as the creature fluttered onto her palm.

"Good mornin', Miss Violet," I greeted. "It's a beauty," I compliment, gesturing to the butterfly that still resided in her hand that she'd moved to rest on her lap.

"Yes. Very beautiful," Violet agreed quietly, awe in her voice. She moved her hand slightly, giving the butterfly a boost as it took off. She watched it a moment longer then turned back to me.

I noticed she now sported a fading black eye.

"My gosh, Violet," I said, surprised. "What's happenin' to ya?" I asked, kneeling down in front of her. "Who's hurtin' you?" I asked gently, worried for her safety.

Her hand tentatively reached up to just below her right eye, knowing what I was talking about, and her face fell somewhat. "Its nothing," she said quietly then stood and walked into the house. "C'mon, Tom," she called and I quickly followed her.

I decided to drop it because she definitely didn't seem like she wanted to talk about the subject. "What would you like me to do, ma'am?" I asked as I followed her down the main hallway.

"The faucet's leaky and I was wonderin' if maybe you could fix it. I've got some tools if you need 'em," she explained as she disappeared into a room.

I quickly followed and realized we were in the bathroom. I immediately glanced at the sink and it was indeed leaking from the pipe beneath the actual porcelain bowl.

I had never fixed a leaky sink but I was sure going to try for Violet.

"I believe I can..." I said uncertainly and got onto my knees. "I think I'll need..." I trailed of as I heard the bathroom's door shut. I looked up at her just as she clicked the rusted lock. I stood, wondering what she was doing.

She looked scared of something and very nervous. "Tom... Tom I-" She broke herself off as she pressed her lips to mine.

I was shocked, unsure if I should do the right thing by my head(which was to gently push her away and leave) or the right thing by my heart(which was to caress her delicate face and kiss her back). I went with the latter, my good right hand caressing her cheek as my lips easily moved along with hers, my eyes sliding shut in contentment.

Violet pulled back after a moment and I think I felt her trembling. "Was that alright?" she asked nervously, a light pink on her cheeks.

A large smile appeared on my face. "That was more than alright, darlin'," I said and lightly pecked her lips once more.

She finally smiled that breathtaking smile and turned her back to me to fetch a box sitting on the floor. She popped it open and then turned back to hand me the wrench. "Thank you," she said quietly then sat on the lid of the toilet and I got to work.

My head kept screaming at me, saying this was wrong. It continued to berate me on how I was putting myself and Violet in danger by letting myself love her. In our society, it just wasn't right for a white woman to love a black man.

She was risking being shunned by everyone. She may even be risking her own life, seeing as she always has bruises on her skin. I was risking death- whether it was by her father or someone else in town or even the court.

All of that considered, and I'm sure she has thought about it, she'd still kissed me- and I still loved her.

"What're ya thinkin' 'bout, Tom," Violet asked suddenly. "You've been pretty quiet," she pointed out.

I shook my head. "Nothin' of consequence, ma'am," I replied, not caring much for the idea of voicing my inner ramblings.

She scowled cutely. "Please don't call me ma'am. It makes me feel rather old," she requested, looking slightly like a peeved kitten.

I sat back, away from the fixed pipe, and leaned against the wall. I smiled at her. "Violet, then," I amended.

She smiled back. "Call me darlin'," she requested sheepishly. "I liked it."

Hesitantly, I waved her over. "C'mere, darlin'," I said, slightly shy and nervous.

Her face brightened and she immediately stood and sat down beside me. She snuggled under my arm and into my side then sighed contentedly.

I wished I could hit pause right at this very moment.

After a few more blissful minutes, Violet suddenly shot up. "Oh, Gosh, he's gonna be back soon," she fretted and quickly unlocked the door. She checked outside and beckoned me. "C'mon, Tom, you've got to skedaddle before my father gets back," she said urgently.

I quickly stood and followed her out. I had to jog to keep up with her brisk pace as she headed to the front door.

Once we were outside she breathed a sigh of relief and plopped wearily down onto her rocking chair. She looked pretty shaken up and I wondered if it was merely the adrenalin that I felt pumping through my veins at the thought of getting caught by her father.

"Thanks again, Tom. Sorry I kept you from work," she apologized and stood again. "Um, I don't really have a nickel to pay you..." she said shamefully, sounding like she was admitting to murder.

I shook my head. "No worries, darlin'." And I left, sprinting to Mr. Link Deas's farm with what I was guessing to be a stupid grin on my face.


	3. Fairytales Are Bullshit

**November twenty-first, 1933**

I was running extremely late for my visit to Violet's- which, in turn, meant I was probably going to be a little late for Mr. Link Deas's. I was slightly on the verge of loosing my job with him but I believe he needed the work and pitied me too much to fire me. It seemed I was the only single black guy with kids in Maycomb. Luckily, while I worked, my close friend was able to watch my pride and joy: Rebecca.

"Hey there, Tom," Violet greeted as I was walking in front of the gate's entrance.

Violet still hadn't told me where those bruises come from but they seemed to be getting worse. She never showed she was in pain though. She seemed used to it, like the beatings she goes through are a constant thing. I worry about her a lot and I wonder, considering her father's temper, if he might be the one responsible.

I look towards her, searching for the beautiful face that the beautiful voice came from. She was sitting in her small garden for a change, surrounded by flowers and a butterfly resting on her open book. She'd finished Romeo and Juliet and was now rereading her favorite: Wuthering Heights.

"Hello, pretty lady," I said with a wide smile, pausing. My life's troubles always slipped my mind whenever I see her.

I didn't think about how I was probably going to be lat for work. I didn't think about Rebecca's terrible illness that had no name- thus having no cure. I didn't think about Samantha, my firstborn child that died two years ago from the same illness. I didn't think about their Momma and my wife dying from the same illness just a year after they were born.

"C'mon in," she invited, giving me a smile then returning her attention to her book. The butterfly flew off from too much movement on her part.

I opened the gate, letting myself in. I walked through the tall grass of the Ewell's yard and up to the garden where she sat.

It was abnormally quiet. I know Violet has a bunch of little brother and sisters so there was always some type of noise going on. Today it was pure, sweet, blissful silence.

"Where's all the chillun'?" I asked curiously as I knelt in front of her.

She closed her book slowly, seeming almost thoughtful as she stood. "I gave them some money for ice cream," she said and then bit her lip, like she did when she got nervous or anxious.

"Well, that was awfully nice of ya," I said with a smile, wondering what she was thinking about.

She simply shrugged then stood up, managing to not disrupt the peace with her natural grace. "Um... there's something I'd 'preciate you getting down for me..." she said shyly, looking like she was blushing just slightly.

Her blushes were a rarity, but they seemed to be popping out more and more as the days passed. She was like a cherry- it was really cute.

"'Course," I accepted, thinking I was pretty much willing to do anything for this girl.

"Thanks." She bit her lip, smiling. She turned to gracefully- almost skip- up the stairs to the porch. "It's a beautiful day," she told me in something close to a dreamy voice.

I followed after her. "Yes, you are," I mumbled in awe.

Violet turned back around, a full-blown blush on her cheeks. Her heartbreaking smile appeared and she quickly wrapped her arms around my neck. She got on her tiptoes and I bent down to meet her. We kissed softly, so much love flowing through us.

Remembering the front door was open, showing our display of affection to the world, I gently caressed her back, pushing her gently through the door closest to us. She didn't object, kicking it shut behind her.

"Touch me, Tom," she breathed as she broke off, her eyes hooded.

I caressed her face, recapturing her lips. I felt like I was on fire and Violet was only heating me up. I couldn't resist the creamy feel of her skin, wondering how I had for so very long.

"I love you, Violet," I finally said as we huffed for breath.

She let out a breathy laugh, looking like her eyes were watering. "I love you, too, Tom. I have for so long," she admitted and kissed me again.

I smiled but my happiness was short-lived.

"You goddamn whore, I swear I'll kill you!" Mr. Ewell yelled through the small window, looking in on the room we were in. He wasn't glaring at me but at Violet.

Everything seemed to go in slow motion after Mr. Ewell caught us.

Violet's eyes snapped to her father and she truly looked frightened. She suddenly pushed me towards the door and yelled, "Run, Tom!" at the top of her lungs.

I hesitated, more worried about Violet and the pure look of fear contorting her beautiful face. Her eyes were beginning to water as she shooed me. I finally turned tail and took of running.

I didn't know where I was heading but I soon found myself back in my own neighborhood. I was unsettled by the events that had just occurred, wondering if Violet was in much trouble and having a bad feeling she was. I wanted to run right back there and take her with me as we ran away together. We could go up North and find a place of our own; we could live happily ever after, together forever.

Too bad fairy tales are a lode of bull because, the next day, I found myself in jail.


	4. Jail Time

My father had just caught Tom and I kissing. I was dead for sure.

But I couldn't bring myself to regret it. I mean, when life gives you someone as great as Tom to love its only sane to reach out and grab it. I could die right now and I'd be happy. As a matter of fact, I probably _was _going to die right now.

My father came in, his heavy feet clomping noisily on the wood flooring, yelling and cursing. He got up in my face, forcing me to step back, asking me why I'd let Tom kiss me. Only he didn't do it so nicely.

Then he slapped me. And he didn't stop until I was knocked out. I'm not even sure if that stopped him.

When I regained consciousness, I was laying outside in an awkward position, like I had just been slung onto the ground like a child's rag doll. I groaned as the pain hit me like a freight train.

"Don't say a word," my father hissed and I realized he was crouched down right beside me. "Sheriff!" he called, suddenly jumping up.

Oh no...

I turned my head, gritting my teeth against the sharp stab of pain. I collapsed back on the ground, my eyes falling on Mr. Heck Tate- the sheriff of Maycomb. This was going horribly wrong real fast...

"Came as fast I could. What's happened?" His eyes fell onto me and they immediately became worried.

"That nigger Robinson's came and raped and beat my youngin'," my father explained as they met up halfway.

"Violet?" the sheriff asked, sounding astonished. His eyes shot daggers into mine, filled with worry.

This was not going to happen.

I forced myself onto my knees, feeling my head grow dizzy as I stood. "N-n-no," I mumbled weakly and then had to hold onto my head for fear I'd lose it. I stumbled and heard Mr. Tate rush over.

"Whoa there, Violet." Mr. Tate caught me by my upper arms, steadying me.

I went limp once again, my vision going black.

**ERTERTERT**

Tom was in jail for something he didn't do. The love of my life was accused of raping and beating me. My father should be the one in jail right now.

But he wasn't.

It had taken about two months for me to heal enough to even walk. Then it took another month for my father to grow bored of his nonstop watch on me, making sure I didn't run off and spill the truth. Tonight was the night I finally snuck out to visit Tom and apologize.

I just prayed to god that he'd forgive me. I had some extreme doubts but, no matter what, I was going to do everything in my power to keep him off death road. All of this was my fault and mine alone so I had to even if I didn't want to- which I did want to.

I listened closely, not even daring to breathe. I heard father's snoring and finally sighed with relief. It was impossible to wake him up once he started snoring.

I slid out of bed and tiptoed to the window, not daring to make a sound no matter how sure I was that he wouldn't wake. I slid open the window, freezing and listening every time it groaned from little use.

I hurried into town, running on the grassy area beside the dirt road on calloused, bare feet. My night gown billowed around my legs in the self-induced wind.

The jail building came into view and I slowed. It was a short building, one cell wide and two cells tall. Only one, dim light shown from the front of the building but, from where I was coming, I couldn't tell if it was even attached to the jailhouse.

I ducked behind some bushes, just in case anyone was a night walker. My heart pumped erratically like I was about to commit murder.

"Tom?" I whispered, reaching up on my toes to peep in the bar-covered window.

"Atticus?" I recognized Tom's voice. It seemed to have grown tired and worn.

"No... It's Violet," I whispered hesitantly, awaiting the onslaught of fury. Something deep inside me lit up at just hearing his voice- but a larger part of me broke as I thought he was going to be angry.

"Violet?" Tom's face suddenly appeared, dimly lit by the half moon.

I finally started to cry. Just seeing his face behind those iron bars reminded me that my very existence had put him there. "I'm so sorry," I said brokenly, plopping down onto the grass. I couldn't remain standing under the onslaught of emotion. "I-I-I don't know why he's doin this." I held my head in my hands.

"Now, now, darlin'," Tom said soothingly. "None of this is your fault."

I jumped up, agitated with myself. "But it is! All of it is!" I yelled, a little too loudly. I clamped my hand over my mouth.

"Who's there?" someone asked who's voice I couldn't place. "Tom?"

"It's alright, Atticus," Tom said and I squeaked, surprised that someone else was here. "It's just Violet"

I shrank back onto my knees so I hid behind the bushes. I had a bad feeling this Atticus guy wasn't going to be happy with my presence.

"Violet?" Atticus asked, his feet disturbing the grass as he walked over. "Miss Ewell?"

I started crying silently. I was scared that either this man was going to be mad or he was going to tell my father. I hated being so frightened but I couldn't push it away.

"Now, Violet, please don't cry. Atticus ain't gonna hurt ya," Tom assured, like he was, once again, reading my mind.

I felt embarrassed, but comforted, that Tom had spoken that aloud. I sucked it up, hating this weak feeling I had, and stood to face Atticus.

He was taller than me- perhaps by a foot. He had graying hair but a strong physique. He gazed at me curiously, looking more than confused.

I couldn't blame him. As far as he knew, I had been raped by the man whom I was visiting. I would be beyond confused myself if I were him. But it just hadn't happened and I didn't really know how to tell him.

I shyly looked into his warm eyes, holding onto my arm that ached. "Tom didn't do it," I finally blurted out and bit my lip. I felt tears welling up in my eyes. "I-I-I don't know why my father's doing this. He... he doesn't like whenever I'm happy... so I guess this is his way of getting back at me," I explained shamefully, unable to look at Tom.

"Are you saying the Sheriff lied?" Atticus asked, authority in his voice.

I shook my head quickly. "No, of course not!" I gulped. "My... my father... did all of that to me..." I admitted, feeling shameful. I had never admitted anything like this and it was far harder than I thought it would be.

"Oh, Violet... How bad was it? Gosh... this was all my fault..." Tom said, sounding shameful.

I looked up at him, shocked. "None of this was your fault, Tom," I said reverently. "And it really wasn't that bad..." I lied lightly, biting my lip and hoping he wouldn't catch the lie like I knew he would.

He sighed, catching the lie, and I could feel his concerned gaze.

"How does Mr. Ewell plan to explain your absence in the courtroom?" Atticus asked, bringing my attention back to him.

I shrugged, thoughtful. "I really don't believe he's thought that far ahead," I admitted. "Is there anything we can do now to get Tom out of jail?" I asked.

Atticus was looking at me thoughtfully. "Why are you doing this, anyways, Miss Violet? If your father doesn't like your happiness, then I'd imagine, if he caught you doing this, then he would do something pretty severe," he pointed out softly.

I bit my lip, glancing at Tom who was gazing lovingly at me. "'Cuz I'd rather die fo' somethin' I did than have Tom die fo' somethin' he didn't. 'Cuz I love him more than life itself."


End file.
